


you, maybe not essentially you, somebody else

by dorky (dorcas_gustine)



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Losers
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"That's crazy man," he says. "I mean, I get Stark flying around shooting lasers from his hands, he's got a British house after all, but man... </i>Captain America<i>."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you, maybe not essentially you, somebody else

**Author's Note:**

> Title from an Italian song. :p  
> Betaed by , who has infinite patience and also supplied some nice lines. :) Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Also: I seem to find movieverse!Tony very, very hard to write.

"We need access to this man's data," Clays says, then he looks straight at Jensen. "Luckily for us, he's hiring."

There's a long moment of silence, and then Jensen bursts out laughing. "No, really, Clay," he says, wiping the corner of his eyes. "Who's the real mark?"

Clay gives him a look. Jensen glances at Aisha, standing next to the projector, but she just raises an eyebrow at him.

"Shit," he says.

On the wall, a giant Tony Stark smirks at them in the darkness of the room.

 

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"I don't see what's the big deal," Aisha says with a shrug. "You go in, distract him with your bullshit and hack into his computer. Job done."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Jensen snorts. "A piece of cake! This is Tony _freakin'_ Stark! This whole thing we did with Goliath? Is going to look like a walk in the park compared to hacking Tony Stark's mainframe."

"I thought you were supposed to be a genius," Aisha says with a bored expression, before she resumes sharpening one of her knives. Why she feels the need to sharpen it even more is a mystery to Jensen, that thing looks like it could cut _air_.

"I _am_ a genius, thank you very much!" he says, glancing behind her at Cougar to see if he has his support on this.

Cougar just smirks at him and tips his hat down.

Bastard.

"Then I don't see why we're still discussing it," Aisha says. She tosses the knife a couple of times in the air - possibly to test if it actually can cut air - and then goes back to sharpening it.

A girl with knives. Aisha would be so, so hot if she weren't so crazy.

"Okay, let me put it this way," Jensen starts and then he has to stop and think about a way, because he hasn't thought that much ahead. "Um, okay."

Aisha looks up at him, curious. "Yes?"

"Okay. I got it," he sits up. "Pretend I'm the best sea captain ever. Like, I've sailed every sea and ocean there is to sail, I know all the small islands and the bays and the shallow waters and I've had sex with mermaids; that's how awesome a sea captain I am."

"Mermaids?" Aisha says, giving him a long look.

"Forget the mermaids," Jensen shakes his head. "Now take Tony Stark. Tony Stark's computer system, to be precise. I may be the best captain in the world, but Tony Stark is uncharted waters. You know, the place on the map with the words 'here be dragons'."

"So you're saying that if you get yourself acquainted with the territory, you'll be able to have sex with mermaids in Tony Stark's uncharted waters," Aisha says.

"Yes. No," he frowns. "I think this metaphor just got away from me."

From his corner of the room, Cougar chuckles. "No really," Jensen tells him, "you are absolutely no help at all. Asshole."

 

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If Tony Stark's house in Malibu looks big in pictures, it looks even bigger in real life. Jensen fidgets with his cheap tie, stops when he sees Hogan - Happy Hogan, driver, pre-Iron Man body guard as well as Tony Stark's personal trainer - give him a long look.

He starts fidgeting with his visitor badge instead.

Why he needs a visitor badge is a mystery to him. As far as he knows there are currently three people in the household: himself, Hogan and Tony Stark himself.

The clicking of heels echoes in the hallway and pretty soon Ms. Potts crosses the threshold.

Okay. So, four people. There's still no need for the badge, his whole wardrobe probably cost less than Stark's coffee machine; he clearly is an outsider here.

Ms. Potts smiles briefly at him, "ah, Mr. O'Neal?" she says, "I'm Virginia Potts, we spoke on the phone."

"Ah, yes, Ms. Potts," Jensen nods. "I'm... Jake O'Neal," Jensen hears himself say.

One thing Jensen is very good at is acting like a socially inept, nervous geek. Mostly because right now he's not acting at all.

He smiles somewhat shakily.

Ms. Potts exchanges a look with Hogan, who just shrugs. "Yes, I know," she says. "I have your resumé right here. I must say it's very impressive."

He and Clay spent a week trying to come up with a resumé that would get Jensen in but that at the same time didn't look too absurd. Then they spent the following week going over every possible question he could be asked during the interview.

They even came up with a Plan B which consisted of kidnapping or rendering all the other candidates momentarily unconscious.

In the end, Jensen submitted Jake O'Neal's fake resumé and the CEO of Stark Industries herself called him barely two hours later. There are two possibilities: either Jensen's fake resumé is indeed very impressive, or there is something else going on here.

Whatever it is, it got Jensen in here.

"If you'd follow me, Mr. O'Neal," Ms. Potts says, turning on her absurdly high heels and leading the way.

"Er, just Jake is fine, really," he says. "Is this my interview?" he asks then, just to be on the safe side.

Ms. Potts stops and turns back to give him a look. "There's no interview, Jake," she says with a tight smile. "This is a trial to see if Tony can work with you."

Jensen frowns. "Don't you mean, if I can work with To- Mr. Stark?" he asks.

"Oh, no," she laughs softly. "You're perfect for the job, as far as I'm concerned."

"Ah," Jensen says. "Great. I think." He clears his throat, "may I ask what made you choose me?"

Ms. Potts gives him the once-over. "Let's just say that you look like you could be the right person to get his attention," she says.

"Right," he nods absently. Definitely something else going on here.

"Shall we go, now?"

"Ah, sure."

 

 

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"Wait here," Pepper tells him as they stop at the top of a staircase.

"Pepper, Pepper, Pepper," Jensen hears the voice before he sees the man. It sounds like it may be coming from some kind of loudspeakers, but he can't see any hanging from the walls.

"What did I tell you about needing a baby-sitter?" Stark says. "I don't need a baby-sitter. I am a grown man. I have money. Lots of money. I have a metal suit of armor. Have you seen my suit of armor?"

"Yes, Tony," Ms. Potts says with the air of someone hearing the same argument for the hundredth time.

"Some might say I am a superhero. Usually superheroes who have suits of armor and lots of money are considered grown-ups."

"I don't think there are enough of those to set a standard," Ms. Potts says.

"And I also have a Rhodey," Stark continues. "So, as you can see, I don't need a baby-sitter."

From his position on top of the staircase, Jensen can see Pepper seemingly arguing with a glass door. Stark must be on the other side of it, but, hard as he cranes his neck to get a look, Jensen can't see anyone.

"I'm coming in, Tony," Ms. Potts says, "and Jake is coming in with me, and we're all going to have an adult discussion like grown-ups, as I'm told superheroes who have suits of armor and lots of money are considered as such."

Ms. Potts moves her finger on the glass door as if following a pattern. There's a moment of silence and then a British voice coming from nowhere resounds all around them, making Jensen jump.

"Your access code has been momentarily rescinded, Ms. Potts. My apologies," the voice says.

"Tony!" Ms. Potts cries out in one exasperated breath.

"So I might have been slightly exaggerating the grown-up thing," Stark said. "But it doesn't matter, the override stays until you get it into your head that I'm not interested in having some overweight nerd-"

"Hey!" Jensen protests.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stark says, "I see from the cameras that you're quite fit. Congratulations. I'm still not interested. So shoo! Take him away, Pepper."

Jensen sends a few glares around just to be on the safe side. Invisible British loudspeakers and invisible cameras. Uncharted waters indeed.

"Would you be so kind as to come here for a second, Jake?" Ms. Potts says.

"I said shoo!" Jensen hears Stark say as he goes down the stairs. "I'm even making shooing motions with my hand, that means- Why are you smiling like that, Ms. Potts? I don't like that smile at all. JARVIS, don't you think that's a sinister kind of sm-"

Stark trails off as soon as Jensen reaches Ms. Potts' side. He's gaping a little, actually.

"Er," Jensen raises his hand in an aborted wave. "Hi? My name is Jake O'Neal," he starts.

_Say something intelligent, say something intelligent, please._

"Um, I like computers and, huh," he says, "hats." Out of the corner of his eye he can see Ms. Potts frowning at him and he wills his mouth to stop, just _stop_. "Cowboy hats and pirate hats and regular hats," his mouth says, "but mostly pirate hats."

Stark is still staring at him. "Huh," Stark says.

He and Ms. Potts exchange a long look, and when Ms. Potts smiles a knowing smile Jensen feels like he's missed something crucial.

"JARVIS," Stark says, "let them in."

The glass door unlocks with a buzz - there are numbers and a little display right on the glass next to the door - and Jensen and Ms. Potts walk in... actually Jensen wouldn't know how to describe it.

Every nerd's dream come true?

What opens in front of them is almost as large as a hangar, if not as high, with cars ranging from the old classics to the newest not-even-officially-in-production parked along the walls.

The biggest workbench Jensen has ever seen in his life dominates the middle of the room, and Tony Stark stands in the middle of it all, wearing jeans and a wife-beater, the blue glow of his arc-reactor visible under the white cloth. He has what looks like a gauntlet from his Iron Man suit on his left hand, and around him there are blueprints for said suit of armor floating in thin air.

Holy fucking shit.

Uncharted waters doesn't even _begin_ to describe the situation. Jensen doesn't know if they should be talking about waters anymore, let alone uncharted.

"So, you're Jake, huh?" Stark says.

"Uh, yeah," Jensen nods absently as he stares at the blueprints and the stream of data scrolling down in front of him. He reaches out with his hand and jumps when the little blue window seems to stick to his fingers. "What the-"

"Save all data and terminate session," Stark says and suddenly everything disappears.

An holographic interface. Stark's computer has an holographic interface. For a moment Jensen wonders if he could quit the Losers and actually stay here and work for Tony Stark and his beautiful, beautiful holographic interface.

Then he thinks of Aisha and her knives.

"Thank you, Ms. Potts," Stark says, "that's all for now."

Ms. Potts nods and she makes to leave. "Mr. Stark?" she says, stopping on the threshold.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"He's got an impressive resumé," she says.

"That's what you said about our dear Ms. Rushman, too," Stark says.

"Well, she did," Ms. Potts shrugs. "_Behave_."

"You know me, Pepper," Stark uses the gauntlet to wave at her. As soon as she closes the door behind her, he tosses the gauntlet on the workbench. "JARVIS, engage privacy mode," he says.

"Privacy mode engaged, sir," the British voice says, and something clicks inside Jensen's mind.

"JARVIS?" he says, "that's your AI, right? Man, you gave your computer a British accent?"

"And sarcasm too," Stark says, sitting down on the bench. "I tried changing it, but he wouldn't let me."

"Ah," Jensen says, taking in the place.

While he waited for Ms. Potts upstairs he didn't see anything even remotely resembling a computer. Sure, Ms. Potts has a netbook, but he strongly doubts he'll find the data he's looking for in there. His best bet is down here, but he has a feeling that he won't be allowed in here alone, and there is still the fact of this JARVIS thing. From the intel he's collected, JARVIS is for all intents and purposes Stark's house.

All Jensen needs to do is convince the house he's not there and then hack into the system.

Yeah, right. Piece of cake.

"So, you like hats, huh?" Stark says.

"Er, yes."

"Tell me," Stark goes on with a grin, "what's your stance on cosplaying?"

Huh?

"Come again?"

 

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"So how did it go?"

Jensen takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. His whole body aches from the tension his muscles have been carrying all day. He stays like that for a long moment. "That man has a security system several years ahead of what I've ever seen," he says. "And his house talks."

Clay gives him a long look. "Are you saying that you can't hack into his systems?" he asks him. "I thought you were supposed to be the best of the best around here."

"Oh, sure, pressure the geek with his ass on the line," Jensen snorts.

"Oh, come on," Aisha smirks, "what's he going to do? He's a business man, not a soldier."

"Did you forget the whole Iron Man thing?"

"Jensen!" Clay exclaims, snapping his fingers in front of Jensen's face. "Can you do it?"

"Yeah. Yes!" Jensen says. "I need more time, though."

"You've got a week at the most," Clay tells him. "We need that supply list, we need to find Max and we're grasping at straws."

Jensen nods, but it's not like Clay even needed to tell him. Max is the objective here, and after he escaped from Los Angeles he's become even harder to find than before. Grasping at straws was an euphemism, it's more like trying to grab smoke.

And then Aisha found out that Max bought Stark Industries weapons directly from the source several years ago.

They all know the data left on Stark's mainframe will likely be useless, but it's the first lead they've found in _months_.

And Jensen is the only one who can do this.

Yeah, no pressure at all.

Jensen feels eyes on him and he glances up to meet Cougar's calm look. He takes a deep breath and nods, Cougar nods back. "Yeah, okay," he says. "One week. I can do it."

"Come on, man," Pooch snorts, slapping him on the back, "you've got free access to Stark's house! I'm sure there are hot girls in bikinis and super-computers around every corner. You're living the life."

Jensen shrugs. There has been a notable lack of hot girls in bikinis, but he can't complain about all the tech Stark has in the house. "He's weird, I'm telling you," he says.

Clay snorts and Pooch laughs out loud. "Weird? Coming from you that's worrying," he says.

"Ah ah ah," Jensen rolls his eyes. "His house is one big security system, and I'm being watched every step I take. Half the house is off limits, and I'm almost sure there are other people living there but who they are is just another big mystery. This morning, he almost took my head off when he was showing off his repulsor technology," he glares at Aisha, "He's not just a business man."

Clay narrows his eyes. "You think he made you?"

"Nah," Jensen shrugs. "I think he's just a dickhead."

A dickhead strangely fascinated with him. Jensen has felt Stark's eyes following his every movement for the whole day.

"I think he might be hitting on me," he finally says. Everyone in the room freezes, then stares at him. "I mean. It's not that I don't think it's flattering, Stark is a handsome guy, and he's rich and-"

Aisha raises her pierced eyebrow. "Oh, really?" she grins, her eyes becoming to slits, much like a satisfied cat.

"Shut up," Jensen moans, sinking his face into his hands. "Shut up." He's not sure if he's addressing Aisha or himself.

He feels Cougar's eyes boring into his back, watching over him. It's a familiar feeling.

 

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"No going out unsupervised," Stark is saying as Jensen climbs down the stairs to the garage. "You know how our dear Nicholas gets. But you can use the pool if you want, no one will-" Stark cuts himself off when he catches sight of Jensen. "Talk to you later," he says and with a quick swirl of his wrist, he closes the conversation.

The holographic videocall disappears too quickly, so Jensen only gets the impression of blond hair, maybe a man.

He frowns. "Is there someone else living here?" he asks as soon as he's reached Stark's side.

"Nope," Stark replies with a grin so wide that it can't possibly be anything but a lie. "Just me."

"Ah," Jensen nods, and then takes a step backwards when Stark invades his personal space. "So, um. I have your coffee."

"So you have," Stark says. He takes the coffee without taking his eyes away from Jensen's. "So you have."

 

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It takes Jensen two days exploring what he can of the house to finally learn where all the cameras are. They've been placed so that they have no blind spots, or at least almost none. Jensen spent the third night running simulations, and by four AM he had a plan.

The plan goes like this: drink at least three coffees at Stark's house (he has _amazing_ coffee), pretend to be busy and try to come up with a way to take advantage of that little blind spot on the west corner of the living room.

Two days later he just lays his head down in his arms and feels like crying is a totally appropriate and dignified reaction.

Cougar nudges his arm and hands him a Coke.

"Let's just burst in, guns drawn," Jensen says, "robbing Fort Knox might be easier."

Cougar pats his shoulder.

"And he's _definitely_ hitting on me," he goes on. Cougar's fingers dig into his shoulder. "That hurts, man."

 

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Jensen chugs cup after cup of Stark's heavenly coffee, filling the sleepless hours of the past few nights with caffeine. Stark doesn't seem to notice, but then again half of his blood content is probably caffeine, with the other half being alcohol.

Like right now. It's late, well past normal office hours - but as Ms. Potts told him the day he started, with Tony Stark there's nothing really normal going on - and the living room is dark, apart from the light coming from the full moon.

He doesn't see Stark at first, sprawled as he is on one of the couches - he's Tony Stark, he has _couches_, plural - but then he sits up, and the sudden rustle of clothes, the light blue glow startle Jensen.

"Steve?" Stark asks, squinting as if he just woke up. An empty glass slips from his fingers and rolls down on the floor, the clatter muted by the thick carpet.

"That's Jake, Mr. Stark, Jake O'Neal," Jensen corrects him for what must be the hundredth time. He should invest in one of those 'Hi, my name is' little stickers.

Stark chuckles and runs a hard through his unruly hair. "Right, of course," he says softly, almost to himself. "Would you like something to drink, _Jake_?" he asks, then.

"I was just about to-"

"Just a drink," Stark interrupts him, already halfway to the home bar. "I promise I won't let you take advantage of my drunken state."

Jensen chuckles despite himself. He checks the time, looks out at the dark sky beyond the floor to ceiling windows; he shrugs. What the hell, it's just one drink. "Sure, you got Mezcal?"

Stark arches an eyebrow. "I have tequila, is that all right?"

Jensen huffs an exaggerated sigh. "If that's all you _have_," he rolls his eyes, then he chuckles. "Yeah, sure. Tequila is fine."

Stark hands him a tumbler with three fingers of tequila. Jesus, if Jensen gets pulled up by the cops, he'll be screwed. And when Clay got wind of it, he'll be dead.

"Mezcal, huh?" Stark says with an amused smile as he fills a glass for himself.

"Yeah, I have a Mexican friend who- it doesn't matter," Jensen shrugs. "It's all about the little worm, anyway."

Stark downs his glass like a pro, while Jensen finishes his slowly, sip by sip. That's some good tequila.

The house is silent, and for once Stark is sitting still, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he leans on the bar. He's staring at something beyond the windows, and the light of the moon paints everything in gray shades; the only shock of color coming from the arc-reactor, glowing a fierce blue in the middle of Stark's chest.

With a startle, Jensen realizes he's the one staring this time, and with a swift move he finishes the tequila. He grimaces as the glass hits the bar with a little more violence than necessary. "Thanks for the drink," he says. "I have to go now."

Stark turns to look at him, and in the dark pupil and iris are an indistinguishable inky black. He blinks once, twice, but remains expressionless.

Jensen holds his breath, waiting for something to happen, but the moments pile one upon another and there's only stillness between them.

And then Stark's eyes glance down at Jensen's lips and up again. It's only a second, barely happened really, but it _has_ and Jensen is frozen on the spot. He knows what he has to do, he has to get up, walk away, get back to HQ.

He sits still, staring at Stark staring at him.

And then Stark leans minutely forward, his eyes fixed into Jensen's - isn't it good manners to kiss with your eyes closed? - their lips _so close_ breathing alone might actually cause them to touch.

"I think I promised not to let you take advantage of me," Stark says, and even whispering the sound abruptly breaks the strange balance of tension and harmony that dominated the silence.

Jensen swallows and ducks his head. "Yes," he whispers back, then louder, "I'll uh- I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark."

He gets up, walks away, never once turning back.

 

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Aisha munches thoughtfully on her Chinese takeout, then she points her chopsticks at Jensen in a stabbing motion. "You should just sleep with him."

Jensen almost chokes on his spring rolls. "Excuse me, _what_?" he sputters.

"You said he's hitting on you," Aisha explains with a shrug. "I say just sleep with him, knock him out and then do your thing. It should be fairly easy if the tabloids are anything to go by."

"Tabloids say Stark has sex with anything that stands still long enough," Pooch says.

"Exactly my point," Aisha says with a shrug.

"The point is tabloids are _tabloids_," Pooch continues.

"Excuse me?" Jensen exclaims, his voice a higher pitch than normal, "why does it sound this is _actually_ under consideration?"

"Because it's a logical option," Aisha says.

"That doesn't mean that Jensen is going to sleep with him."

"Thank you, Clay," Jensen says with a relieved sigh.

"Why not?" Aisha asks, her eyes narrowing slowly and wow this is getting real ugly, real fast. "If you think it's acceptable for a woman to do it?"

"Well," Clay starts, putting down his chopsticks, "said women are usually heterosexual and in most cases they've had training."

Aisha's eyes get even narrower. "Fitting your sexual orientation does not equal wanting to have sex with someone. I like men, but I don't want to have sex with most men," she says. "And anyway, it's not like Jensen is... _heterosexual_," she does little air quotes with her fingers.

Why is she doing little air quotes?

Jensen's throat is suddenly dry, he reaches for the coke.

Pooch sighs and rubs his forehead. "Look, he wears girly shirts, I'll give you that, but that's not a sign of homosexuality, that's just bad taste," he says.

Aisha arches an eyebrow at him. "It's not the shirts, it's the ten inches dildo I found hidden under his socks."

Coke flies out of Jensen's nose in a spectacular arch, spraying the table and most of Pooch with fizzy caramel-colored soda. No one seems to notice, though, as they're all staring frozen at Aisha.

Even Cougar's silence is of the shocked kind, rather than his usual watch-me-I'm-mysterious kind.

"You went through my stuff?" Jensen squeaks, then coughs. His face is burning fiercely.

"Of course I did," Aisha says, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I went through all your stuff, when we first met. Pooch has Ninja Turtles action figures, Roque had more knives than me, Cougar likes Russian literature, Clay is very boring and you have a ten inches dildo."

"Stop saying that!" he flails. "And that proves nothing, anyway! I could- um, I could be just a straight guy who enjoys a little anal play now and then!" And damn it, damn it, he can feel his blush creeping up his neck and spreading on his cheeks. "And I can't believe I just said that out loud."

"Please stop talking!" Pooch groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Straight guys who enjoy anal play use fingers, not giant dildos," Aisha says.

Jensen's face will probably get stuck like this, and he'll live the rest of his life like some kind of freak gargoyle with a permanently horrified expression.

In front of him Pooch moans. "I'm trying to eat, here," he says, kind of desperately.

"I'm just listing our options, if we want to close this mission in the set timeframe," Aisha continues. Oh god, this woman is _relentless_. "We've established that sexual orientation is irrelevant when it comes to seducing a mark. Also, you are the most qualified for the job: one, because you are the one who's going to have to hack Stark's computer; two, because the mark has already expressed his interest in you and three, because if it comes to it, you can handle him fucking you."

"Ah, fuck this!" Pooch exclaims, slamming his chopsticks on the table and getting up. "My appetite is ruined. _Forever_," he sighs. "I'm going to bed. Hopefully I won't have nightmares about this."

He stomps away and Jensen is left with Clay and Aisha having a conversation with glares - possibly about the fact that Aisha called him 'boring' - and Cougar, whose expression is even more unreadable than usual.

Really, Jensen would like to lay his head down and have a little manly cry right now, but then he catches Cougar's eyes moving. It's quick and Jensen wonders if he's just imagined it, but no, Cougar's look was-- _appraising_.

"Fuck," he mutters, laying his forehead down on the tabletop. "Just- let me die here."

Can you die of embarrassement? He really, actually kind of hopes so.

 

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That night he doesn't sleep, either, but it has nothing to do with codes to crack or programs to write.

In the dark, he stares unseeing at Cougar's sleeping form across from him. He can still feel the warmth of Stark's breath like the impression of a caress on his lips. And then Aisha's words echo in his mind and he mouths curses.

Pooch mumbles something in his sleep and turns over, the squeaking of the old cot almost a loud screech in the silence.

"Stupid," Jensen hisses harshly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

He spends the rest of the night staring at the window, waiting to see the first rays of the raising sun.

 

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Stark is working on Iron Man, heavy metal blaring out from the speakers in the garage, and that's the chance Jensen has been waiting for since he got here. He's supposed to check emails Tony Stark style - that means he has to trash them all - on Stark's main terminal.

He looks up and when he's sure Stark is occupied with his toys, he quickly takes out the flash drive he's been carrying around and constantly updating as he got to know Stark's security system better.

The real problem is getting past JARVIS' firewalls, but Jensen doesn't get called a genius for nothing.

"Pause," a voice says, the music suddenly stops, and Jensen almost jumps out of his skin.

He whirls around, trying to cover the screen without looking too conspicuous. A black man is standing at the door, his uniform identifying him as a Lt. Colonel of the Air force.

"Rhodey!" Stark exclaims.

"Hey," Jensen waves, hoping really, really hard Rhodes doesn't know anything about hacking.

Rhodes - Rhodey as Stark calls him - stares intently at him, his eyes scanning Jensen from head to toes and back again.

"Tony," Rhodes says, but he's still staring at Jensen. "Tony, tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"This is John, my new assistant," Stark says, making vague hand-gestures in Jensen's direction.

"Jake," Jensen corrects him.

"It is what I think it is, isn't it?" Rhodes says, then he pinches his nose with an exasperated sigh. "Tony this is bad idea. No scratch that, remember Tokyo?"

Stark pauses his tinkering for a moment. "Uuuhh, the first time or the second time?"

"The second ti- Actually, the first time was pretty bad too. But no, the second time, the second time was worse. Remember it? Okay, this is going to be worse than that."

Jensen shoots a glance at the computer screen to check the status of the download. 89% until he's going to have remote access to Stark's mainframe. He sits on the desk as nonchalantly as he can manage.

His elbow bumps into the monitor, almost sending it toppling backwards and in the attempt to catch it, Jensen barely manages not to crash down on the desk.

Both Rhodes and Stark turn to frown at him, but their conversation doesn't seem to be affected at all.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Stark lies. Stark is the most obvious liar Jensen has ever met. Not because he's bad at lying - Jensen would bet all the money he doesn't have that he'd be a very good liar, should he put any effort in it - but just because he likes fucking with people's minds.

"Does he know?"

Stark raises his eyebrows. "Who?"

"You know who," Rhodes says, slowly, almost threatening. He quickly glances towards Jensen. "Does. He. Know?" he repeats, his voice getting lower.

_So. This is how the elephant in the room must feel,_ Jensen ponders. He tries to make himself as inconspicuous as he can under the circumstances - the bright yellow and electric blue tie he's wearing might be considered a handicap in this case - but he really shouldn't have bothered.

Rhodes and Stark are locked in a staring contest that feels like a whole conversation held on a level Jensen isn't able to reach. That's quite all right, though, the download has reached 100% and by this time tomorrow he and the rest of the gang will be far away from Tony Stark and his weird behavior and all of his flirting.

Jensen quickly pockets the flash drive. He clears his throat. "I, um, have to do that thing with the... thing," he finishes lamely.

Rhodes and Stark are still glaring at each other as Jensen scampers off.

 

 

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As soon as he's on the balcony - although 'balcony' is too reductive a term; 'paved soccer field with a nice fence and some deckchairs' would be more appropriate - he takes out his cellphone.

They pick up on the third ring and when no one answers, Jensen figures it's Cougar on the other side.

"Hey man," he grins, his voice as low as he can make it. While he can't be one hundred percent sure Stark hasn't put microphones and cameras on the balcony, the noise from the wind and the sea should be enough to cover his words.

"I did it," he says, "now I need you to check if this thing works. Go to my laptop, there should be a program already working."

There's a moment to silence, then, "Yes," Cougar says.

"Okay," he nods, "Now, check if there's anything written at the bottom of the window."

"'Connection established'," Cougar reads.

Jensen laughs softly. "You can't see me, but I'm totally doing the victory dance over here," he says, his grin so wide it almost hurts.

On Cougar's end there's a noise, like a short exhalation of breath, and Jensen knows he's smiling too. "Dude, I totally just hacked into Tony Stark's mainframe," he says. "I can't believe I did that."

"I can," Cougar says, softly like a secret. But then again all of Cougar's words feel like secrets.

Jensen swallows against the sudden dryness in his throat. "Ah," he says. "And there was no sex at all involved!" he continues. "See? Aisha was totally wrong."

Cougar is silent.

Oh, hi Jensen. You're quite the contortionist, what with your foot in your mouth and all.

"Um. So, I'll check in later to see if this thing still works and then I'll see you people tonight," he says. "And don't you guys play around with my software, first of all because you wouldn't know what to do, second because Stark might notice it and third because I want to be there in person when you all witness my awesomeness as a- are you laughing at me?"

"No," Cougar lies.

 

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When Jensen goes back downstairs, Rhodes is mysteriously gone and Stark is drinking a stiff one before lunch. A double stiff one with no ice, by the looks of it.

"Jack," Stark says as soon as he sees him.

"Jake," Jensen corrects him.

Stark waves a hand dismissively, and the glass comes dangerously close to spilling half of its content on the Iron Man armor spread out on the workbench. Jensen realizes it's possible that Stark may have drunk many double stiff ones before Jensen came back.

"I think you might be drunk, Mr. Stark," he says.

"That's... not out of the realm of possibilities," Stark says, staring at his glass as the liquid inside swirls round and round and round. Then Stark raises his eyes and stares at him. His eyes travel all over his face, his chest, his shoulders, to finally set on looking straight into his. "Are you going to take advantage of me?" he smiles.

Jensen's mouth is suddenly dry. He swallows desperately.

Stark sets the glass on the workbench and takes two steps towards Jensen, invading his personal space. This close the couple of inches of difference in their heights are even more obvious, and Jensen is left blinking down, confused.

Stark smirks. "Anyone ever told you that you look very much like the peak of human perfection?" he asks.

Jensen has barely time to process the words, much less feel flattered, as between one moment and the next Stark has taken a hold of his tie and tugged forward, smashing their mouths together.

Jensen mumbles some protests against the kiss, but evidently Stark takes the jumbled words as an incentive to go on, and his tongue makes its way past Jensen's lips, while his hands get all personal with his body. Fingers that are probably dirty with engine grease card through Jensen's spiky hair, while the other hand slips down his back, light like a summer breeze, to settle just above his ass.

Jensen pushes back and their mouths separate with a wet sound. Shit, when did Jensen start to kiss back?

"Now, don't take this the wrong way," Jensen says, "I mean, I'm flattered and all, but er, you're not really my type, I usually like people who have boobs- and also I have a girlfriend! No, I have about three girlfriends, and they all have boobs. Which I lo-_ove_!" Jensen's voice raises about an octave on the last word, as Stark's hand finally slips down and _pinches his ass_.

"Sure you do," Stark chuckles with a glee that's not really appropriate with the hand now resting on his ass.

"And- and you're my boss!" Jensen goes on, "this is all kinds of inappropriate. And you're drunk!"

Stark advances on him and Jensen keeps his eyes fixed on the blue glow of the arc-reactor to avoid looking directly at him.

However, that proves to be a mistake.

Stark may be slightly drunk, but he's _fast_. Between one blink and the next, he's crowding Jensen, their knees knock together, one thigh brushing against his, and then Jensen can feel clearly against his hip just how far this whole thing has gone. "That's not going to be a problem," Stark says, "if that's what you're worried about."

"That's- not what I was trying to say," he coughs as fingers lightly make their way up from Jensen's left knee to his hip and back down again. "I'm just- I'm just-"

Jensen's head spins as Stark quickly turns them around and pushes him backwards.

The back of Jensen's knees collides with the bench and he loses his balance, falling down on it. Stark puts a hand on his chest and pushes until the table is digging almost painfully into Jensen's back, just below his shoulder blades.

"You talk too much," Stark says softly, as he bends down over him.

All Jensen can see is that smirk and brown eyes burning, and then he's being kissed again. Fuck, Jensen sucks at bullshitting _voluntarily_ his way out of sex, and he hasn't got laid in &lt;i&gt;months.

Clay is going to kill him.

 

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It's stupid and uncomfortable and hot as hell and it all ends way too soon. Jensen's jaw aches and the wetness in his shorts is getting sticky and gross. He rights his glasses and sits up on his elbows.

Stark sits up, tucking himself back in. He picks up a mostly clean rag from the floor and tosses it to Jensen. "Here," he says, with a small smile. "It's not much, but I guess it beats running to the closest bathroom with sticky underwear."

Jensen sits up on the cot Stark keeps in his garage. Ms. Potts has told him that Stark rarely sleeps in his own bed upstairs if he's alone - and when he's not, there's presumably very little sleeping going on, anyway - choosing instead to spend his nights down here.

He grabs the rag and gives it a doubtful frown. It looks clean enough, though, and the stickiness is getting really uncomfortable. "Um, thanks," Jensen says, and then he yawns. "Er, sorry."

Stark chuckles. "No worries," he says. He looks sideways at Jensen, one of his hands comes up to ruffle Jensen's hair and for a second his eyes lose their ever present mocking light, but it's just a blink of the eye and then Stark is standing up. "I have to be somewhere else now, but you can crash here until I come back."

"I really have to-"

Stark doesn't seem to care. "We'll pick up this conversation where we left off," he tells him, stretching his arms wide.

"No, I mean, I really have-" Jensen gets cut off when Stark pushes him down and kisses him.

"Jesus," Stark says, "_shut_ up."

Jensen shuts up.

He watches silently as Stark makes his way out of the garage. Only when he's alone he uses the rag to clean himself up. He grimaces and then something suddenly occurs to him. "JARVIS?" he asks, tentatively.

"Yes, Mr. O'Neal?"

"Shit!" Jensen flips on his stomach. His arm gets trapped under his body and the whole thing becomes even more awkward.

Shit, how can the man take a shower, have sex or even masturbate when he knows there's something that's always going to be watching. Shit. Jensen gave the man a blow-job while his computer was _watching_.

He moans softly in defeat and tosses the rag away from him.

Who is he trying to kid, Tony Stark is probably the biggest exhibitionist on earth.

Lying on his stomach like this, the flash drive digs into his hip painfully. And to think how much he's racked his brains trying to come up with an excuse to have access to Stark's computer when in the end Aisha was actually right.

Jensen closes his eyes with a frustrated sigh.

He's never, ever going to tell her.

 

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When he next opens his eyes Stark is suddenly _there_ and Jensen yelps in surprise and jumps back, startled.

Stark is wearing a suit. He wasn't wearing a suit when he left.

Oh shit.

He fell asleep.

"What time is it?" he asks, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"It's time we take this to a real bed," Stark says, his right hand cupping Jensen through his pants and biting softly the side of his neck.

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

Clay is _so_ going to kill him.

 

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Jensen's shirt got left behind in the garage, two floors down, his shoes and his belt are scattered on the steps of the stairs leading to Stark's bedroom and now fingers are fighting with the opening of his pants.

He's tried to get away - _honestly_ \- but Stark's hands are everywhere, and his mouth seems to be setting on fire every bit of Jensen's skin that gets uncovered in the journey to the bedroom.

Predictably, Stark's bed is the biggest bed Jensen has ever seen in his life.

Stark finally wins the battle against his pants and, with a gentle nudge, he pushes Jensen backwards, so he topples on the bed.

Predictably, the sheets are made of silk.

Jensen with his pants opened, his undershirt and his psychedelic tie and Stark with his expensive white shirt and just the lower part of the suit, it could be argued that they're on the same level, clothing-wise. Lying like this, though, with a man looking at him as if he were a particularly delectable banquet spread out just for him, Jensen can't help but feel totally naked.

"Oh, wow, um," Jensen tries with a last minute retreat, so later he'll be able to tell Clay that he, you know, _tried_, "is this Stark Industries standard procedure when it comes to evaluate candidates' performance?"

Stark pauses in tugging down his pants and gives him a look. "Oh, normally Pepper wouldn't let me sleep with the aides," he says with a grin. "But you don't count."

"Oh, great, I don't," Jensen blinks up at the ceiling. "That does wonders to my self-esteem."

"Oh, no. You're _special_," Stark is finally done with his pants and he tosses them away, Jensen idly watches as they sail through the air.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._ It's like his personal mantra, now.

This is such a _bad_ idea. Tony Stark's reputation regarding bed-partners is all over the tabloids and the Internet, and Jensen's fallen for it like an idiot. He looks down at his boxers, ridiculously tented. Stupid dick. He grimaces.

Daffy Duck boxers aren't made for erections.

Above him, Stark snorts. "Take off the shirt," he tells him.

Jensen gasps and gets tangled in the act of taking off his shirt and tie, when Stark tugs off his boxers without a warning. He moans and shudders when the cold air of the room hits his dick. "F-fuck," he groans.

"That's the idea."

Jensen goes rigid. "Right," he stammers, finally emerging from his shirt. "Now, I don't want you to get the idea that I do this all the time. I mean, I have sex, obviously. But usually not with my boss. Especially since my boss is a man. I like bo-"

"Boobs, yes," Stark waves his words away. He advances towards him, until he's kneeling between Jensen's legs. "Anyone ever told you you talk too much?"

"It's been mentioned, yes," Jensen says. "At times."

Stark gets Jensen's tie and gives it a sharp tug as if to test its resistance. He gives it a considering look and then ties a knot right in the middle of it. "Well," he says, looking up at Jensen, "luckily, I have a solution."

Jensen looks on with his eyes wide. He swallows audibly.

The knot goes into his mouth and Stark ties the loose ends at the back of Jensen's head. When he's done he sits back on his haunches to observe his handiwork. He frowns and cocks his head to the left, then he takes off Jensen's glasses and lays them on the nightstand.

"_Perfect_," he concludes with a grin.

Jensen just blinks and frowns trying to get Stark's face into focus. "I can't see shit like this," he says, "those glasses aren't just because I look cool, you know."

Of course, with the tie gagging him, it all comes out as jumbled mumbling.

Stark chuckles softly. Bastard.

All the squinting is giving Jensen an headache, so in the end he opts for closing his eyes altogether. This only results in making every sensation more intense, every little thing. He feels the fresh smoothness of the silk sheets under him and the light seeping through his eyelids reminds him that it's daylight and holy crap he's spread out naked on Tony Stark's huge bed and there are _no curtains_ on the windows.

It probably is a moot point, as the windows open onto a cliff and anyone would have to fly by to witness Jensen the Naked Wonder. This leaves out most people, with the possible exception of Superman and Wonder Woman, and with them being fictional superheroes, Jensen figures he's all right.

"Oh, am I boring you?" Stark asks in that tone of voice that makes it abundantly clear that he's making fun of you, but at the same time he makes you feel like you're in on the joke, and then you end up grinning along with him before you realize that hey, he's making fun of you! And-

_Fuck!_

Is that a hand on his dick? Is that _Tony Stark_'s hand on his dick.

Jensen almost chokes around the tie and his eyes shoot open. Stark is bent over him, possibly smirking - without his glasses all Jensen can see is a blurry face - his hand lazily working up and down on him, and all he manages to do is squeeze his eyes shut again and let his hands twist and twist and twist in those sheets that probably cost more than Jensen's monthly pay when he was still in the army.

"I see I finally have your attention," Stark continues, smirkingly calm as if he weren't giving Jensen a very intimate handshake. "I gagged you so you would stop babbling, not so that you would keep on babbling in your head."

"Mgmrfl," Jensen says around the gag.

"Oh, I'm sure," Stark says and then Jensen feels him bend forward, Stark's open shirt tickling against his bare chest.

A hot, wet tongue leaves a trail from the middle of his chest up to his neck. And then Stark bites him softly under the jaw and sucks the skin there and Jensen may have died a little. He moans as Stark's fingers leave his erection to card through his curls; he shudders when they trail down to caress lightly the skin of his inner thighs.

"Just like this," Stark says, something almost wistful in the tone of his voice.

"Nfgrrl," Jensen mumbles, but he honestly doesn't know what he wants to say.

"And now, I think I'm going to-" but everything else that Stark means to say gets lost as the walls around them start honking.

"Intruder alarm," says the British voice that's actually Stark's computer, and also his house. And his suit of armor. And while, as a fellow geek, Jensen can appreciate the whole talking, sarcastic computer thing, he's seen _2001: A Space Odyssey_ and that _Simpsons_ episode: houses that depend entirely on an AI? _Bad_ idea.

"Oh, for-" Stark growls. "Give me visuals, JARVIS. And where is my suit?"

"Which one, sir?" the British voice asks. "The new Armani suit? Or the Versace you're currently ruining by having this... _gentleman_'s bodily fluids all over it?"

Jensen feels his face go hot, but he refuses to take the bait. A fucking _computer_ is making fun of him. With a British accent. There should be no bait to take.

"Ah ah ah, JARVIS," Stark says, dryly, "My metal, red and gold pajamas, where are they?"

"Your arc-reactor powered, armored suit is under your bed, sir, right where you left it."

"He gets testy when I call Iron Man 'pajamas'," Stark tells Jensen in a loud stage whisper. His breath brushes softly against Jensen's neck. "And who you might be, gentlemen? And how did you manage to get in here?"

Stark's weight leaves the bed and Jensen blinks slowly to focus his eyes as much as he can. After a moment to get his bearings he fumbles towards the nightstand to retrieve his glasses and the world becomes sharply clear all at once.

The windows have become a giant computer screen - and okay, creepy British computer aside, that's cool - and yep, that's Clay and Cougar all right. Breaking into Stark's house.

Really, one may think they don't trust Jensen at all.

They could have waited until Jensen had his orgasm, at the very least. Talk about insensitive.

"One of my sub-routines is taking longer than usual in responding," JARVIS announces. "The system log shows evidence of tampering. It appears that _someone_ has tried to hack into my systems."

"'Someone'?" Stark echoes, turning to look at Jensen. By now he's wearing the whole armor, the faceplate up so Jensen can see his frown. "Really?"

Busted. Jensen tries for a smile, but then he realizes he still has the tie on his mouth so he takes it off and just shrugs.

"I'm impressed, really," Stark says, "but you must realize that hacking into my system isn't easy at all. I'd say impossible, but I am not without humility."

"Oh _really_, sir?" JARVIS says, "I must be confusing you with someone else named Tony St-" and then the AI stops mid-sentence.

The windows stop being very cool computer screens, the alarm stops blaring and everything goes dark in the house.

Stark arches an eyebrow. "Okay, now I'm really impressed," he says. "But you might have heard of this thing called 'auxiliary power'? It comes on when there's a black out. In three, two, one... now."

Nothing happens.

Stark looks around himself with a frown, then he turns to glare at Jensen.

"You," Stark says pointing a menacing metal finger at him, "stay put."

Jensen smirks.

Houses depending entirely on advanced AIs? Just as easy as other houses to break into, once you get rid of the AI.

 

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Jensen stumbles in the living room, naked and with only his hands covering his crotch - because holy shit Clay and Cougar are here and pointing guns at freaking _Iron Man_ and he hasn't had the time to find his underwear.

"Huh," he says, when all the eyes in the room turn towards him.

Cougar and Clay gape at him. Well, to be fair, only Clay gapes, Cougar just widens his eyes a little but that's pretty much the same thing when you're Cougar.

And hey, who's the hot red-head chick? Jensen has never seen her, and he's been working here twelve hours a day for six days. He likes to think he'd have noticed such... _striking_ security. She's got two guns pointed at Clay and Cougar and she doesn't even spare Jensen a look.

"Jensen?" Clay asks.

"Hey, Colonel," Jensen waves weakly and then suddenly remembers his state of undress. His hand flies back to cover his crotch.

Clay frowns deepens. "You missed your check-in," he says. "Aisha had to figure out how to work your program."

"Uh, yeah," Jensen coughs lightly. "About that."

"You know these men?" the red-head finally speaks. She still isn't looking at him, though, as she appears to be locked in some kind of staring contest with Cougar.

"Jensen?" Stark echoes, with a frown.

"Er-" Jensen starts, but is thankfully spared from having to answer when they all hear the running steps approaching the living room.

And then a man who appears to be Jensen's long lost twin - if Jensen had twice the muscle mass and twenty times the self-confidence - comes in from around the corner. A man carrying a suspiciously familiar-looking shield.

"I heard the intruder alar-" the man starts, then he catches sight of Jensen and blinks at him for several moments. Jensen smiles weakly. "Stark. Why is there a naked man in your living room?"

Tony lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls his eyes. "I believe the proper question here is, why isn't the naked man in my bedroom where I left him and where he was supposed to stay?" Tony finally turns to address him directly and Jensen wonders if he's ever blushed harder in his whole life, or if he ever will. "Don't you understand the words 'stay put'?" Tony says, "isn't English your first language?"

"Er," Jensen shoots a look at Clay, but he merely raises his eyebrows, amused.

Next to him, Cougar stares at Jensen, then at Jensen's twin on steroids, then back at Jensen and then finally his eyes settle on Stark, narrowing dangerously.

"Um, okay!" Jensen exclaims, and he has to fight hard to keep his urge to gesticulate wildly right now, "why don't we all calm down and put down our guns and our, huh, shields and- and repulsors I guess, so we can discuss this like fairly normal adults?"

"Do you know these people?" Tony asks.

"Yeah."

"They broke in," the red-head says. "_Armed_."

"Yeah, well," Jensen shrugs awkwardly, "they carry guns everywhere. And I do mean _everywhere_. My man Cougar there sleeps with his rifle."

The red-head wonder still doesn't lower her guns, though, and the staring contest goes on for another long minute; until Clay raises his hands and re-holsters his weapon. After a moment, Cougar follows him and then finally the red-head lowers her guns as well. She doesn't put them away, though.

"Okay, good," Jensen nods. "Now I go find my boxers."

Tony leers at him. "Oh, I don't know," he says. "I quite like how all that nothing looks on you."

No, okay. Apparently it is possibly for Jensen to blush even more. He makes his hasty retreat.

In the living room, he hears his Steroid Twin ask, "Who's that? He looks like me," and then, "--and why was he naked, Stark?"

 

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When Jensen walks back into the living room, now wearing his pants and his undershirt, everyone is pointing guns at everyone else again. Really, Jensen can't leave them alone for one second. Aisha has joined the scene when Jensen was busy getting his dignity, and that could explain all the guns.

She arches a mocking eyebrow at him as soon as he comes into the room, but it doesn't work; he's totally ignoring her.

"Come on, guys," Jensen sighs, "what happened to discussing it like adults?"

Frankly he's tired of being the idiot without the gun in a room full of armed, trigger-happy people.

"Jensen- it's Jensen, right?" Jensen's double finally starts, "Jensen is right, we should all calm down." His voice is stern, but calm, as if he's used to give orders. Definitely military. When he moves, his half-zipped up sweatshirt gapes open a little and Jensen gets a glimpse of a white star and- is that _scale mail_?

Holy shit.

The shield, the scale mail, the star. "Holy shit," he stares at Stark. "Is that what you meant with cosplaying? Are you putting up a harem of Captain America look-alikes?"

The Captain America wanna-be chokes on air, while everyone else turns to stare at Jensen, including the red-headed babe. "What?" he says.

Stark gives him a deadpan look. "That's Steve Rogers," he says. "As in, Steve. Rogers. As in _Captain America_."

"Stark! That was supposed to be classified!"

"It doesn't matter now," Red-Head says. "Nick is on his way here, it's doubtful any of you will get out of here alive."

"Right," Aisha bares her teeth in a smile that looks more like a snarl. "That's what you think, sister."

"Captain America?" Jensen repeats, dumbfounded.

"No one is killing anyone here," Captain _freaking_ America says. "Put down your weapons! You too, Widow."

Stark turns to address Jensen. "You hacked into my system," he says, and he sounds genuinely impressed. "I don't know whether to fire you or hire you."

"Well, actually you already hired me," Jensen says.

Stark arches an eyebrow. "To be fair, I hired some some guy with an impressive resumé, no some kind of thief or terrorist or whatever you are," he says. "It appears you already have another boss, too. Which brings the question, who the hell are you people and what are you doing in my house?"

"The Losers," a voice says.

They all turn towards the newcomer. He's a tall, black man with - and here Jensen is ready to call bullshit, because _really_ \- an eye-patch. And at least a dozen men and women armed to the teeth.

Clay glares ferociously at eye-patch guy, Aisha is openly snarling now and Cougar is starting to look like a cornered animal, and while none of those things are good separately, combined together they're like the prelude to the closing act of a Tarantino movie.

"I seem to find myself at disadvantage here," Clay says, "you know who we are, but we don't know who the hell _you_ are."

"Nick Fury," eye-patch guy says.

Clay snorts. "Fury. Yeah, _right_."

"Who's that?" Aisha asks, her aim never wavering.

"Someone who isn't Fury," Clay says. "Fury is an urban legend."

Eye-patch guy smiles an impressive amount of teeth. "So was Max, wasn't he?" Jensen can practically hear Clay's teeth grinding together. "I would like to have a word with you, Colonel Clay."

"I'm not a Colonel anymore," Clay says.

Fury is still smirking. "Fair enough," he says with a nod. "Now, why don't you call Sergeant Porteous and tell him to come wait comfortably inside? This is going to take a while."

 

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Half an hour later Jensen still can't get over the fact that holy shit he's sitting right next to _Captain America_. He knows he's openly staring, but he really can't help it. Not only Captain America is alive, when he should have died more than sixty years earlier, he looks like Jensen's clone.

Or rather, _Jensen_ looks like Captain America's clone.

Maybe he really is a super-secret government project.

"So, um, Captain America, huh?"

Rogers turns to look at him. He stares at Jensen for a long moment, specifically at Jensen's neck. Oh god. Oh fuck, Stark has left an hickey there, hasn't he? Fucking _typical_.

"Yes," comes the somewhat icy reply.

Jensen chuckles. "That's crazy man," he says. "I mean, I get Stark flying around shooting lasers from his hands, he's got a British house after all, but man... _Captain America_."

Rogers remains silent, and that's Jensen's ruin. Once Pooch theorized that he's genetically incapable of letting an awkward silence be, feeling the need to fill it with babbling, thus making it even more awkward. At the time Jensen pretended to get offended, but yeah.

Pooch was right.

"Right," Jensen says. "It's seriously screw-with-your-mind material. We could probably pass for twins. I mean, aside from the glasses, and the muscles and the fact that you're Captain America and I'm... not." Rogers narrows his eyes at him, glances down at what by now Jensen is sure must indeed be an hickey, glances away. "Right. Um."

Just what the hell are Clay and Fury talking about anyway? Their 'private chat' is surely dragging on; he just hopes they haven't killed each other or something.

On the other side of the room, Jensen sees Cougar staring at the back of Stark's head, his eyes full of cold intent as if he were looking through the scope of his rifle.

"Oh, hey," Jensen exclaims. "That's Cougar over there, calling me," he tells Rogers. "If you're thinking that you haven't heard him you'd be right, because that's Cougar, man, he just doesn't _talk_. We have this whole silent conversation thing going on." There's a long, awkward silence and Jensen tries - he really tries - to just shut up and get away. "I'll just be- going, then," he says, giving Rogers a pat on the shoulder. "See ya."

"Hey, Cougs," he grins. "How's it hangin'?"

Cougar's eyes flicker sideways for a moment, lingering on that spot on Jensen's neck, before they go back to glaring at Stark. Jensen is actually surprised his head doesn't explode in a bloody mess right there.

Jensen sighs and scratches the back of his neck. "On a scale from one to ten, how much have I fucked this up?" he asks, softly.

Cougar gives him a look. He puts up his hands and spreads all of his fingers, makes two fists, opens them again.

Jensen's face falls. "Clay is going to kill me." Cougar nods sagely. "But you have my back, right?"

Cougar's face goes blank, but his eyes are dark and intense. Jensen has never seen him this angry. He buries his face in his hands and sighs loudly.

"Man, you don't know what it was like," he says on, quietly. "It was like trying to argue with an octopus. A horny octopus. And I haven't had sex in like-" he trails off when Cougar's fingers close around his left wrist in an iron vise and pin it to the tabletop. And now Cougar's sniper-glare is directed at him. He can't help swallowing nervously. "Cougar?"

"Shut. Up," Cougar says, his fingers digging almost painfully into the soft flesh of his inner wrist.

"Okay," Jensen swallows. He shuts up.

Cougar's fingers leave behind five pale imprints that quickly become red when the blood starts flowing again. Jensen is going to have bruises.

Clay and Fury finally come out from where they've been holed up, and judging by the glare Aisha sends their way she isn't very pleased with being left out of their little chat. Clay is still frowning, but it's not as pronounced as it was earlier, and these days that's just Clay's normal face.

Fury grins like a one-eyed shark. "Lady and gentlemen," he says. "I have a business proposal for you."

**Author's Note:**

> Fuuuck. That's it. I'm done writing movieverse!Tony.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] you, maybe not essentially you, somebody else](https://archiveofourown.org/works/475894) by [katemonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemonkey/pseuds/katemonkey)




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